I Eat Because I Love Myself

Watching Oprah has never been a priority of mine. Not because I have anything against her, but watching her show tends to make me either depressed about how screwed up people are, or terrified our health system will fail me and amputate a perfectly healthy limb of mine or allow me to contract some kind of flesh eating bacteria. To be honest, the only time I've ever seen Oprah is when I go to my all female gym, in which it is on every day without fail. I'd change the channel, but I fear the middle aged women that surround me with their eyes and ears glued to the television to hear what Dr. Oz has to say about cleansing the colon. Instead, I jog along quietly with my moods going up and down as the endorphins released from the exercise try to stand up to the, "Hi, I'm a husband and father of five who decided I would start a cult and then have an affair with a man," topics that Oprah attacks on a daily basis.

She seems to me to be a fairly decent person, giving cars, homes, washers, dryers, small children (I kid, I kid), Target gift cards, and airline tickets away. I don't even hold it against her that I have yet to be the recipient of any of these things. I guess my Oprah attitude is one of indifference. When we watched The Color Purple in high school I did not follow suit with the rest of the girls who were excited to see a celebrity like Oprah bringing literature to life, I instead was excited to see my favorite Sister Act nun in one of her first films.

The point is, I've never had any beef with Oprah...until now.

At work today Pam asked me what kind of treats she should sneak into the grocery cart to bring into work. This week's groceries will be purchased with her husband's paycheck, which is a prime opportunity to sneak candy into the cart. I told her not to worry about it because I am trying to cut down on sweets.

The following conversation began:

Pam: Oprah fell off the wagon you know.

Me: Oh?

Pam: Yeah she put on 40 lbs and is now trying to get back on the wagon. I think she's only got one foot in the wagon though.

Me: I see.

Pam: Do you know why she got fat again? Because she didn't love herself. That's what she said. She says people eat too much because they don't love themselves.

Me: Oh really. For me, it's more like I eat because I love chocolate.

Pam: People who eat tofu and rice cakes must really hate themselves.

Me: Agreed.

Pam: If you see me eating rice cakes and tofu it's because I'm depressed and ready to kill myself.

Me: Note taken.

The conversation continued on from here but got much more crazy, and I can't capture it properly in the written word. The moral of the story is that I respectfully disagree with Oprah.

Some people do over eat because they are depressed and are trying to fill a void in their lives, however, for some it is simply because ice cream tastes good, the smell of pizza ignites a warm glow in their hearts, the perfect unison of beef, lettuce, and tomato on a bun is a work of art that demands salivation, and the sweet taste of a frozen strawberry margarita puts a giant smile across their faces.

I eat because I love myself and want to spoil myself rotten. I eat because the darn food industry makes everything taste so ridiculously good that I can't simply put one item on my plate at a buffet, I must try it all. I eat because when a place like Coldstone Creamery exists and I get to hand pick the ingredients in my ice cream, I can't pass that up. I eat because some mastermind chef decided that pastries covered in chocolate should be easily accessible to all United States citizens.

Therefore, I dismiss Oprah's theory of, 'I don't love myself because I over eat,' and leave you with my own, 'I exercise because I over eat.'